Grandma’s Story

Grandma’s Story

—as

told by Barbora Mitašová Slivoňová

Grandma’s Story

As told by Grandma (Barbora Mitašová Slivoňová—Barbara Slivon) to Anne Mercier

Translated from the Slovak by Gaby Pretes

Grandma about age 20

About Grandma m

Grandma (Barbora Mitašová Slivoňová, known in English as Barbara Slivon) was born December 27, 1895, in Petrovice (village), okres Bytča (district), Žilinksý kraj (region), Austria-Hungary (historic empire—broken apart in 1918). Petrovice is now in the Republic of Slovakia.

Grandma’s maiden name was Mitašová and her married name in Slovak would be Slivoňová. For men, these Slovak last names would be Mitaš and Slivoň, but Slovak women’s last names add the ending “ová.” Grandma was also known by the nickname Boriša (like Barb or Babs).

Grandma’s father was Andrej (Andrew) Mitaš and her mother was Veronika Chalan. Her husband was Juraj (George) Slivoň, who was born April 15, 1893, also in Petrovice. In this story, when Grandma refers to “Dad” she is speaking of her husband Juraj (George). Juraj’s father was Pavel (Paul) Slivoň and his mother was Anna Macangová.

Grandma’s children are Annamária (Mary), Anna (Anne), Rudolf (Rudy), Jozef (Joe), Jozefina (Jo), and Gabriela (Gaby)

Grandma died on June 5, 1989, in Racine, Wisconsin.

Childhood m

Why are you bothering me now when I have forgotten everything? I’m old! [she was in her late 70s or early 80s at the time]. You should have asked me a long, long time ago while I still had a good memory. Well then, Anne, turn it [tape recorder] off! What should I talk about? I’m not going to!

Grandma’s Birth Baptismal Certificate (1895). It’s in Latin and Slovak

Well, as you are bothering me so much, we’ll start talking and we’ll go to Petrovice first. I’ll tell you how it was in the old times, when I was growing up. Oh, how hard it was! You don’t know what kind of life it was! It was happy, but it was hard, from what I can remember when I was little. We all had to work hard, and we never had enough of anything, unlike how it is here [America]. There we thought we

Grandma’s

would never have enough bread to satisfy us, like here. But despite all that we were all happy and somewhat satisfied. Here in America there is enough of everything, but no one is satisfied. They are always looking for something else, something is always missing! Well then, I will tell you about how hard the times were when I was growing up. We worked hard, the war (World War I) came, there was no money, and your Grandfather died. We certainly lived through the hard times. And the war lasted for four years. We couldn’t buy things. We had to go far just to get essentials like flour or other things. The stores were almost empty and looked as though they had been robbed. And then your aunt worked at home while I had to go to work like a man, which then turned into a domestic job, just to earn enough money to pay for the most important things. And after the war, I don’t know. I went to Grandma and Grandpa’s wedding (1918)

work on a farm. No, that was still during the war. I was in Bratislava, I was in Trnava. And the life then was very hard. And my youth flew so fast that now I remember very little of it. I don’t even feel that I was young once!

Petrovice Church (photo taken in 1991)

When we worked on the farm, we had to get up early, and when the sun rose, we were already in the fields. We had to keep working! We couldn’t even straighten up. And we were truly hungry.

One time we were so hungry that we couldn’t see ahead of us. After a while one of my friends, who was also very hungry, said we should go to the kitchen and ask for something. But there was nothing there, except for some split pea soup from the day before. There were already flies that had fallen in. And my friend just looked at it. But when there is hunger, the flies were tossed out and the soup was eaten! That’s how it was. On another farm we were digging for potatoes. It was autumn. In the morning we went out to dig, without breakfast, and they brought us some potatoes cooked and salted, in a basket, out in the field. I put some in my apron, and that was our breakfast. And then for lunch, we all went to the kitchen. There were just wooden boards. We didn’t eat from dishes or bowls, but everyone ate together, and he who grabbed the most did well and was satisfied. And that was the way it went.

Previous page: Grandma and Grandpa’s Marriage Certificate (1918). It’s in Latin and Slovak

Grandma’s naturalization document, making her a permanent resident and later a U.S. citizen

Postcard of the S.S. Europa, the German ship on which Grandma and all the children sailed from Bremen to New York in 1938

The reverse of the same postcard, with Grandma’s handwriting (loose translation: “This is the ship on which we traveled, 4 February 1938”)

Racine newspaper announcement welcoming the Slivoň family (1938)

Getting Married m

The war had ended. Dad came back from the war and he wanted to get married, and there was a lot of thought about the wedding, but it was hard for me because I didn’t want to go to live at the Slivoňs’ house. I was thinking that when I married your father it would feel as though I was marrying a widower because there were little children, his little brothers and sisters, in that house. There were—I don’t even

know how many. They were my aunts and uncles, though younger than I was, and they weren’t the best behaved, they didn’t want to obey. And Dad’s mother remarried and went to live with the Bieliks. She became the judge’s wife and she left all the children in Dad’s and Uncle Joe’s care, but mostly to Dad because then Uncle Joe got himself out of it. He went to America and Stryná [his wife Veronika] followed. None of the Slivoň children would obey me. When I would tell Strýko Ľudo to do something he would tell me, “You can’t tell me what to do. You didn’t raise me. Go give orders at the Mitášes!”

And that was how it was when we were told to help, especially Dad. His mother took the children with her and let them stay at the Holáks. Then Dad’s mother wanted to come back to the Slivoňs. But we were in her way again, every place, there was always something in her way. This was hard on Dad and me, and we decided to build a new home. It took about a year until everything was in order. We moved in even though it wasn’t finished. But with God’s help everything passed. That’s how it was. But everything was on loan. We had money plus what we received as wedding gifts. But Dad’s mother was smart. She took all the wedding money and told us, “Oh, my children, let’s pay off what was needed for the wedding and then the money will be given to you.” But she spent the money and never returned it. It will be returned at the Heavenly Gate. After that we had to borrow every cent. The Slivoňs didn’t want to

lend us anything. But other people were very good to us. Everyone liked your father (Dad). People even came and offered to lend us money if we needed it. And they lent it to us. Your father worked hard, very, very hard. He didn’t allow himself any kind of treat. There was no place to take it from. And there were three of you, and that’s how the times were.

Life with the Slivoňs m

Even then, the Slivoňs were envious because Dad worked so hard at the mill and earned money. I worked for two years at the mill. I almost got pneumonia and then I had to go to the doctor because my lungs were almost ruined by the flour dust. But somehow all that passed. When Dad went to America then it was a little better. But the Slivoňs still kept bothering me. Whenever they could they lied. And whatever they could take they took from our property. And they took a lot. But it did not matter to us if cheaters benefited from it. Later, when Dad was in America, he thought about it. Then the Great Depression came, and he came home to Czechoslovakia. And in Czechoslovakia there was no work. He stayed for a year, and then he left to come back here to Wisconsin. And he decided that life would be better for us here [America] than there. Four or five years later he sent for us. [And in February 1938, Grandma and her six children moved to Racine to join him.] That’s how it was. The rest of our life was spent here.

If all of this had been written down, you would have had a large volume. You would have had something. I was young and had good eyes—I remember everything very well and I could write it all down. But now the eyes are weak, and the hands are shaky!

Grandma’s Parents m

And now I will tell you about my parents. Like you, we were very poverty stricken all the time. But they suffered more poverty. Like my mother, how she talked. Poor souls, they had almost nothing to eat. How they hungered. They would cook porridge in the evening and put it in the attic to cool and thicken. In the morning they cooked sauerkraut with it. Porridge and sauerkraut.

They lived such hard lives, my parents. Well then, the people hungered and then got sick. The illness made them swell up and turn yellow. There was nothing. Even if they wanted to make dumplings, the potatoes weren’t ready yet even if they had planted some. They had to dig with shovels; there were no horses to do the plowing. And the potatoes were about the size of walnuts and because the fields were not well plowed there wasn’t very much. When they dug up the potatoes in autumn they would go back and dig a second time so if there were any left, they dug them up and they would dry them in the attic. And in winter they would pound the potatoes on a stone, and

they would make a kind of flour. It was a black flour. I and my sisterin-law used it to make sweet rolls from it, but they were black as coal.

Everything was in poverty. Always my mother would talk about when she was little. When her mother died, she was nine months old. She never remembered anything about her mother or even knew her. Then my grandfather got married again and a second family came, and like every stepmother, the new wife couldn’t care about my mother. She only cared about her own children. My grandfather could see it and he took it very hard, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He didn’t want to cause problems at home. I don’t know how old they were when my grandfather sent the children to the Rectory while he worked. He had cows to tend and couldn’t look after them well. There, at the Rectory, things were a little better, but they always recalled the hard times. At the Rectory, the housekeeper would make a little food and if there was some left over after the lunch, she would send the children to take it to the horse. So, they would quickly eat the potatoes out of it and the rest they gave to the horse. But they were caught by the priest. Then, when my mother was her own head of household, she would always think to herself, “Ah my Veronika, I now think you wouldn’t have brought those potatoes to that horse.” But that was hunger. When there is hunger that is the worst. And then my mother got married.

But my father also had a hard life. They were both orphans, my father and my mother. And he also worked hard. Then came cholera, a sickness that was very bad. A lot of people in the village died from it. I don’t know how many died at once. And my mother’s father died from it. But my parents survived, and then later it got a little better. And even for them it got better, because the luckier people understood everything and how to create more jobs. And my father was quite an intelligent person. My parents didn’t have much schooling, but they had good sense and good reason. Then he got a job operating machinery. He knew how to do everything. At that time there was no electricity and there wasn’t much power, so they used ropes pulled by water. And, when something broke, he could fix it. And everything he saw he could do. He was a kind and good person. He was thoughtful and worried about his family. And he lived very peacefully. But although everything was going well, he died young. I don’t remember if he was 62 or 64. He worked hard and that wore him out. He was worn out and there was nothing anyone could do. He did a lot of heavy lifting. He died before the war, about three months before the war. Then the war started, the First World War. It would have been very hard for him. At that time all the young men were taken into the army and the old ones had to go to work. And anyone who had horses had to go into the service with the horses and carts because they had to carry the munitions behind the soldiers on their horses. That lasted about four years. Then they came

back—the ones who survived. The old ones that were in the army at the front returned but they always remembered what they had gone through. Dad lived through the war. He had to go to war when he was young and was there for four years. But I will tell you about that later.

Life During World War I m

Now I’ll tell you how we lived through it. Then, since the war lasted so long, my father died. Uncle Sebastian (Uncle Šebo) was in America, the post office was closed, and the money he sent didn’t arrive. It was really hard. It was hard to live through but slowly it passed. And my mother, poor thing, cried so much for my father because they had always been healthy, and he was a strong person and had never been sick. Any many times she would say, “My children, if I should get sick, don’t try to make me well because I’m healthy and if I’m sick there’s no help for me.”

And that’s how it happened. And grandma did get sick. She got sicker and sicker to the point where the doctor said she wouldn’t come out of it. But God intervened and she lived thirteen years after my father’s death. Poor thing, she worked so hard! And if you only knew how much they liked you [Anne]. They liked you and all the children so much, I don’t even know how to tell you. And when they could, they would have given you everything. But they didn’t live long enough to see all of you born. There were only four of you then. Joško (Joe) was seven months

old when my mother died. She kept getting sicker and sicker, worried about us and our work and worried about all of us and with the war.

Uncle Sebastian was in America. He came back later from America and things were a little better. Things were settling down. He even was able to bring a few things back. And before that, after the war, he was able to send things.

But I wanted to become a domestic servant. I wanted to experience what life was like in someone else’s home. I served for one year. I was young to be a servant; I was sixteen years old, but I had to know how to do everything. And if I didn’t know I would tell them that I did. And it went in all directions. Then I was sorry that I didn’t obey when my parents didn’t want me to become a domestic. I was paid fifty

The house that Grandpa (Juraj Slivon) built in the 1920s in Petrovice (photo taken in 1991). The house has since been torn down

koruna for one year’s work—no, it was one hundred koruna. And I had to do everything, like a slave. After the war Uncle Sebastian went back to America. Then I stayed at home. After that it was time for me to get married. It was hard for my parents when I left home. And as I said, it was tough because it was like I was marrying a widower with all his little brothers and sisters for me to take care of. When I went to the Slivoňs it was a full house. Dad’s mother was smart. She knew how to look after herself. She thought that others could do the work. She pretended to be sick. There was a lot of housework to do there. When people would come by she would say she wasn’t feeling well and went to bed. But there was nothing wrong with her. But for me, her daughter-in-law, it was work and work! It lasted one month that we were together. But during that month I endured a lot.

Then Uncle Joe got out of the army. Since he was there, he wondered if his wife could move in too because he didn’t like living at the Motičeks. He wanted to live at his home. So when Stryná [his wife] came there were two housewives in that house. Uncle Joe told his mother that she should go stay with her husband’s family. So Stryná and I remained as the housewives. But when my motherin-law moved to be with her husband she took everything from the house. Nothing was left! She even told us to go back (to our parents’ homes) and get pots, spoons, and bowls. She said that this was her

house and she had suffered a lot there, so everything in it was hers. Stryná and I went to our mothers and asked them to give us spoons, pots, and other things until we were able to buy replacements.

That’s how our life was hard, very hard.

Then, after all that, Uncle Joe wanted to leave again. Things didn’t seem to suit him there. He made up his mind to go to America and it worked out for him. Stryná didn’t want to stay at her mother’s because her mother was by herself. I was alone at the Slivoňs. Then dad and I took care of the house. Dad’s mother always said, “My children, take good care of this property because it will be yours. Who will it be left to? It will be left to you!” We worked hard, made improvements, put a lot of money into it, everything, down to our last cent. Dad even added on.

And after all that, Dad’s mother told him that he was only entitled to one-ninth of the property (there were nine children). Dad’s mother wanted to move back to the Slivoňs. Grandfather Slivoň left half the property to her and the other half to the rest of the family. But Dad’s mother was devious then to her husband, who was a widower with no children, but he had two sisters. So they had plans that when he died, everything would go to his sister and sisters-in-law. Then they insisted that he sell the place and he finally gave in and sold it. There was a lot of money there and a large property. So half of

it he willed to his sister Klema and that all went to the Holals.

And the rest of it she took and grabbed—the money, the house, and everything else. So since everything worked out for her, she came back to the Slivoňs. After that, things weren’t the greatest with us. We were always in her way, everywhere. She wasn’t at peace. Everything was the opposite. I told Dad that I would rather rent a house to live in, but not there or maybe we could build a new house. We did build but it wasn’t much, there was no money. Grandma had lots of money but she wouldn’t lend us any. Other people lent to us. They even came and offered to help. We were young and healthy so they weren’t scared that we wouldn’t repay them. But with God’s help we finished everything. Everything was paid off. Your father worked really hard. Poor soul, when he came back from the war he was stressed out and worn out. You wouldn’t believe what kind of a life it was and how hard he worked. And then he was at the mill.

Grandpa (“Dad”) Goes to America m

Dad’s mother was envious and jealous – how good we had it, our own house, and enough bread and everything else. Then, after thinking about it, Dad thought it would be better if we went elsewhere. He could see it. Dad’s mother was keeping his money, even what Dad got from the army. She took it all and put it into the bank. And they only saved for the

daughters, not the sons. Dad asked Uncle Joe about everything because the mill belonged to a wealthy baroness. She wanted to sell and we were first in line to buy it. It should have belonged to the old Slivoňs, they had been living there and it had been paid off a long time ago. But Dad wasn’t thinking about the mill. He just wanted to get away from there. He wrote to Uncle Joe who was in America. And then somehow Uncle Hrtanek took care of everything and Dad left everything behind and came here (America). Dad was getting ready to come here but again there was no money. We were in debt because our horse was killed when he went into the woods. He borrowed money for a horse but since he was coming here, he sold it. But it wasn’t enough. He needed money to get here. He pleaded with his mother to lend him money to come here. She told him, “My son, I’ll co-sign for you for a quarter of it from the bank. I have a savings account, but I don’t want to take anything out of it.” So again other people lent him money, but his mother wouldn’t.

When he got here [Racine] he was happy that he was able to get out of there. It was hard for him. There was no work and there was the language barrier, as he didn’t speak much English then. You can think for yourselves how it must have been. Then came the job at the tanning factory [Eisendrath Glove Company in Racine]. He saved every cent. He would count all his pennies to see what it

would be in Czechoslovak koruna. Then he paid off his debt and his family was envious of us again because we had it so good and we had money coming from America. And what they did to me! Wherever they could they took everything they could get their hands on. They even cut our trees and sold the wood without telling us. Whatever they could—they even set fire to the hay to get insurance money. They built new hay bales but set fire to the old ones for the insurance. Some of the insurance money belonged to us but the Slivoňs took everything. When the insurance man asked how much insurance money I got, I said I got nothing, and he said some of it was ours but I never saw a penny of it. The Slivoňs didn’t give us any. They offered me burnt wood from where the bales of hay were stacked. If I wanted it, I could have it. I didn’t want it. I didn’t want all that burnt wood in the house because it was full of ashes. Rather, I went and got fresh, healthy wood and carried it on my back. That’s the way it was at the Slivoňs. But, if anything had to be made or improvements were needed, I was the first one to be called on and the first one who had to pay. But if there were any premiums or benefits, we were banned from receiving anything. They gave us a large cross to bear. It was a large property, it was divided into shares. But they would never share. They barred us from enjoying what should have been ours. When Dad came to America he bought out his sisters’ shares that they had received from their father. But never, never

did we see any of it or enjoy it. It would have been better if Dad had lost the money. That’s how it was, but it was like that for everyone.

Then came the Depression. God helped with it all. And we lived through it all. We didn’t suffer poverty. But God’s wrath fell on them, mostly on the one in the family who had approved everything. Poor soul, he only lived on bread that he had to ask for. He had been the wealthiest and well-known man in the village. He was dying of starvation even though he tried to take back from the cheaters. And that’s how it is in the world. I don’t know what else to tell you. That’s been a lot. And some of it is gone from my memory. If it had been thirty years ago I would have told you everything, from my birth. I remember when I was three years old and my father gave me a good beating. It was at my brother’s wedding, and I was small. And when the wedding guests were celebrating and getting a little rambunctious, I was little and wanted to join them. He gave it to me good and I still remember it!

Life After the War m

I don’t know what else to tell you. I’ve already blabbed everything. I’ll tell you a little more about Dad. It was long after the war. He was supposed to get a pension but had a drunken notary, and somehow all his documents were burned. Dad’s documents from the army were all burned by the notary. Dad went to find new ones but at that time there was a lot of tension with Hungary and the Hungarians living

in Czechoslovakia were paying people to not join the Czechoslovak army [After World War I, the Austria-Hungary Empire was broken apart, and Czechoslovakia and Hungary became two new separate and independent countries]. Dad was at the Czechoslovak army office at the exact time and they drafted him back into the [Czechoslovak] army. The Hungarians remaining in Czechoslovakia were very haughty and looked down on everyone. When he was in the army some of these Hungarians bribed his commander, and the commander sent them to collect all the weapons and put them away in storage because he said they would not be needed. And even a General was being paid off by these Hungarians.

The soldiers bribed by the Hungarians attacked the loyal Czechoslovak soldiers in their barracks. They started shooting at them. They chased all of them outside in their underwear and captured them and sent them to the army prison. I think Dad spent two months in that prison, I’m not quite sure, but it was very hard because there was also a famine. They were treated very, very badly.

There were tales that more soldiers were also imprisoned there, in addition to the ones that were attacked in the barracks. Then the soldiers hired a lawyer to find out the truth. I think it was the General that was found responsible for accepting a bribe, hiding the weapons, and instigating the attack on the barracks. I’m not quite sure, but I think he was eventually sentenced to death for that.

Whether or not it was carried out the soldiers never knew because then they were let go and got their freedom. But they suffered a lot from hunger. [Note: According to Anne, Dad served in the Russian army during World War I, because he was working on a Russian farm at that time, and when the war began he was drafted into the Russian Army. His brothers were in the Austria- Hungary army. This is unverified but the story has been told many times in the family.]

When Dad was in Bratislava in the prison he asked if I could make him some bread, even from the cheap flour that was given to the pigs, and bring it to him. He had such hunger. And I brought some. I baked bread and I baked poppyseed kolaches and I took some bacon. And I brought him a whole bucket, a big bag, to Bratislava. I found the prison (Dad had written that it was the army prison). So when I got there I walked around for a long time with my heavy load looking for it.

When I got to the gate there was a sentry there and he asked what I was looking for. When I told him Dad’s name, he opened the gate and went to call Dad, but we only had fifteen minutes to talk. Then later he wrote that he hadn’t even realized that I had been there until he was hungry and had some bread. And the bread didn’t last long because he shared it and there were a lot of soldiers. After all the suffering Dad came home. But people had been talking about him, saying that he was going to be shot. The village didn’t ever expect Juraj Slivoň to return to Petrovice!

As I went to the prison they were thinking that, and even saying that I was just going to look because all the soldiers had been shot and I wanted to see his dead body. But the Lord God helped with everything and took care of everything. And that’s how your father’s life was. Until the end. And then when things should have been better for him, the sickness (emphysema) came.

He had suffered from it since he was young. Because at the mill it killed his youth. When his father died I think he was seventeen years old. And there was a big family, so he had to take care of everyone, all his little brothers and sisters. And in the end he got nothing. All he got from his father was his name and strong constitution and that was all. That’s how it was, my children.

Your father didn’t have very good memories of his mother. She deprived him of his health, his money, and everything else. He worked the most and the hardest because he was still a young man. And he had to do everything since his father was no longer there. When he would remember his youth and his mother, his eyes would fill with tears and he couldn’t talk about it.

She wasn’t like a mother. She was worse than a stepmother. No one had good memories of her, especially her sons. I have to tell you, her sons had no good memories of her at all! Only her

daughters remembered her with affection. She seemed to have had some kind of misunderstanding with everyone. Your father got nothing, there were always misunderstandings between them. When Uncle Joe went into the army her parting words were that she hoped the first bullet would kill him then and there!

Then Uncle Alexander (Sandor) returned and he wasn’t having a good life. And the youngest one was getting married, and she thought his wife would become a servant like I was, and she wouldn’t have to do anything. But they had different ideas.

He was the head of the household and he would give his wife money and she was the lady of the house. At the Slivoňs’ house Dad’s mother wouldn’t tolerate that for long. It was very ugly. She even wanted me as a witness to testify that he was beating her, even though that wasn’t true. Not even one of the sons had good memories of their dear mother. They had memories but not good ones. Well, that’s the way it was my children. That’s the kind of life your father had!

Although he never forgot he felt he should be a dutiful son as long as she was alive. Whenever he could, he would send her some money and packages during the war [World War II]. She was old and kept complaining about her favorite daughter. She really loved her and would have given her everything in the world. Well, I think I told you everything, maybe even too much. I don’t know what else to tell you.

Slovak Holidays and Festivals m

Maybe I should tell you how everything was when I was young and single. People were poor and there was poverty and other things and it was after the war. But the people were very much at peace. They were happy there. The people were always happy there. When they got up in the morning they would burst into song. They enjoyed themselves. When they went to work they went singing, whether it was children, or whether it was old women. When people came from work, it was the same. Your father had a good voice, he really knew how to sing. And his friends came over in the evening to the Slivoňs’ place on the hill, if you remember, and they would sing until midnight. It echoed throughout the area. That was quite a concert! Easter, Midsummer, and Oldomaš m

When Easter came there were certain customs, like Oblievačka, the pouring of the water. Early in the morning the young single men would make whips from weeping willow branches and chase the girls to the river. The poured water over them and went into the river even though the water was cold. It was the girls’ turn the next day, Tuesday, after Easter.

Monday was called “Lashing Monday.” Tuesday the girls would deal with the young men but not like that. Then when summer came they would work happily in the fields in the morning mist. They were always content.

When Jánske ohne, Saint John’s Day (Midsummer Day) came, in the evening the night before the young girls would go into the meadow. There were all kinds of beautiful flowers. They picked them and wove them into wreaths. And they went to throw them on the sweet apple tree.

Whichever wreaths stayed in the tree, that girl would be getting married that year. But the girls whose wreaths fell off would have to wait! Then there was a big late summer celebration called Oldomaš [a relic pre-Christian festival—Oldomaš was a Slavic god of the sky]. Some whiskey would be boiled and there would be a good rich dinner. When it ended people would make a large wreath out of wheat and decorate it. And one of them would come in wearing

Oldomaš celebration in Slovakia (from a Slovak ceramic tile)

it on her head. Everyone came into the yard singing, all the men who had cut the wheat and the women who baled it. They were singing “Now god has helped us, and others couldn’t. Oldomaš, our Lord, if the head of the house is a good host and has good wine, let him share it and let God bless him!” (this rhymes in Slovak). People were in good company, had good food, and enjoyed themselves.

After dinner they went outside, and they were singing about Oldomaš and everything. The next day everyone remembered the celebration and how much they enjoyed it. Not even wealthier hosts had a better celebration. Even old Kristinik remembered the celebration for a long time and how he sang and drank. That’s how it was.

Autumn Festivals m

Later came the Žatva and Dožinky (the harvest, threshing of the wheat, and harvest festival). There were times when we only had poles to do the threshing. Some of you may even remember it. Not you young ones. You older ones should remember how your father would have such a nice rhythm when he was threshing. Slowly that went out of style. Then came the threshing machines. We had to use our hands to turn the wheels of the crude machine. People sang all the time there. Everything was always about singing. Work always started with singing and ended with singing. After that came the

digging. They would also sing there even though it was cold.

Sometimes our hands would get frostbitten. And the potatoes had to be dragged in bags because there were no horses. I did my share of carrying. Then came autumn. Everything was put away from the fields, and we had to get the wood ready for winter. We had to carry the wood from the forest and stack it into piles.

Then came the November holidays (All Souls and All Saints Days). It was time to remember those who died. People went to the cemetery and made large wreaths out of some long-stemmed plants. And if there were any flowers that hadn’t frozen yet, they would add those. They lit candles and there was a procession to the cemetery to pray for the dead. There were two cemeteries. The procession went first to one and then to the other.

And that’s how the year passed. At the cemetery the graves were large. The candle would be placed in the center. The one who was alone had one candle, one light. From our window you could see it all in the evening. It was so lovely, like the stars in heaven.

Christmas in Slovakia m

After remembering the dead came Christmas. That had to be prepared early. Not only one or two days. Things had to be gathered— apples, pears, nuts, poppyseeds, and all sorts of things because some people didn’t have all those things like others had and at the stores there wasn’t always enough. It took a while to find everything.

I forgot to tell you that after All Souls Day came Advent. In the morning we went to Mass. We had to use lamps because it was still dark. Sometimes there was so much snow it would crunch under our feet. We went early, and in church it was cold. They didn’t have any heat like they do here. Every morning we waited for the bells to ring, but by then everyone was out of bed and they would get dressed and ready.

Then came the preparation for the Christmas holidays. We started to bake. All kinds of kolaches: there were poppyseed, there were marzipan, there were cheese, there were nuts. All kinds of baked goods. Towards the end there was a lot of work because we also had to take care of the cows and pigs and everything else. Christmas was the most beautiful holiday. In the evening everything was so silent and still. The day before Christmas was also considered a religious holiday. Everything was quiet.

You could smell the kolaches because they were baked in large ovens and the smell drifted through the yards from the chimneys. How good it

smelled! When evening came it was a big holiday. Dinner was prepared early, Dad went and brought the tree from the forest, the Christmas tree as we call it now. He put it outside into a stand. Then he came in and said, “Glory to Lord Jesus Christ! My children, I wish you a happy Christmas holiday! May the Lord God give you good health, good fortune, lots of God’s blessings, content for our children, bountiful fields, gladness at home, and after death the Heavenly Kingdom. Amen.”

By then dinner was ready and everyone sat down at the table. On the table was a large bowl filled with all kinds of sliced kolaches. There were nuts, there were prunes, and I can’t remember what else. Then came dinner: krupiková kaša (buckwheat or semolina porridge). But first we had oblátky (Christmas wafer made from unconsecrated communion host-type bread baked into a rectangle with a nativity scene impressed on it). Everyone had a wafer with honey on their plate. There was a jar of honey on the table an either the mother or father came and took a spoonful of honey and made a cross with it on everyone’s forehead. I don’t remember the reason but it was for good luck. Then the dinner. There was the wafer, then buckwheat cereal, but we called it krupiková kaša. Then there was a mushroom and sauerkraut soup. When there weren’t any mushrooms we sometimes used fish and it was a very hearty soup. After that we had bobáľki or vianočné pupáky

(little balls of dough baked together, broken apart, softened with a liquid such as milk, and then mixed with poppyseed and lots of melted butter). There were all kinds of other dishes, but I don’t remember it. And that’s how dinner ended. I forgot to mention that there was always good wine, usually spiced and heated up. It wasn’t dinner without wine. That’s how the special dinner was done. After dinner people would crack nuts, but first there were the apples. It was the custom for each person to cut an apple. And if any of the seeds were cut, they said that person wouldn’t be healthy the coming year, that something would happen. Then people would crack nuts, and I remember some people would crack them with their foreheads, by smashing the nut on it. I tried and ended up with a lump the size of a nut on my forehead! After dinner there were no presents. They didn’t give presents because it wasn’t the custom then. People would buy a few things, I don’t remember what, but there were no presents. After dinner everyone enjoyed themselves, talking and remembering past times. Relatives would come by and they didn’t want to fall asleep before Midnight Mass and so they talked until they heard the church bells and then went to Mass. When we came home from church I remember my sisters-in-law were hungry. We went to see if there were any bobáľki with poppyseeds left over, or porridge, and we would finish it.

I forgot to tell you about the cows but it’s a little late since I’ve been babbling. That is gone from my memory. I guess I’ll start again with Christmas. Mom would go to the stable and give each cow a piece of bread with a wafer on top. On Saint Stephen’s Day (December 26) there were more festivities.

We got up early and would pour candle wax into nutshells and put them on a string as a wick, and then took them down to the river. If the water in the river had frozen over we put them into the tub. And when the nutshell floated, depending on which side the wick was, that girl would be getting married. If it was the upper end or lower end I don’t know anymore. And I don’t know if it was true or not. It was more of a joke.

More About Holidays m

After Christmas the next big holiday was Fašiangy (Mardi Gras or Fat Tuesday). That was also happy. There was music, there were gatherings, and revelers came. It was one after the other.

Then came Easter. With Easter came the whips. The young girls had to prepare themselves because they could be given a sound thrashing.

Sometimes the boys would lead the girls to the water and splash and pour water over them. We had to defend ourselves! But Tuesday was the women’s turn, and when they ran into a young man, they would give him a good smack! I don’t know, it was one thing after another.

Then came the First of May. People would put up maypoles where there were young girls and decorate the poles with colored paper. On the second or third day it was Sunday and they would take down the maypoles. People came with music and it if was a nice day they would dance in the yard and sing: “Tear down the maypole young man, tear it down! There is a pretty maiden here.”

Then came Saint John’s Day, but I think I already told you about that. The night before Saint John’s Day the young girls would go to the meadow. There were all kinds of flowers and they would pick them and weave them into wreaths and went to throw them on the apple tree. If the wreath stayed in the tree that girl would get married that year, and if it fell off she would have to wait. And young women would pick flowers and leaves and put them in her bed, under her pillow. They were supposed to make her dream about whether she would get married or not. The next morning, she would check the leaves and if there was an ant in them, it meant that she’d marry a nice young man. If it was another kind of insect, it would be a widower. And so on. These were the customs there. It was quite funny and they were only jokes but sometimes there were gullible people and they would believe it.

After all that I don’t remember what came next. Summer came, the meadows were mowed, the wheat was dried, and everything was done with song from beginning to end. The harvest came and the

celebrations. I forgot to tell you, in summer, before there was a lot of work, in June, we would go to pick raspberries and it was far into the woods. Sometimes when it was two o’clock in the morning, we would be on our way. When we got to the woods it would still be dark. We would sit under a tree and doze off for a while. Then we would separate into the woods to look for berries. The mist was so thick that we were as drenched as if it had rained. And then we were cold. The bushes were taller than we were and full of thorns. The thorns would scratch our knees to the point where they would swell up. But it was nothing. Strawberries were better. They were in nice, clean areas. But sometimes there were big snakes, and we were afraid of them.

Sometimes there would be one all coiled and sunning himself. Oh, did we go screaming from there! After all that hard work we would sell the berries very cheaply, to the Jewish families. But it helped and we enjoyed doing it.

There was a lot of work to do during the summer. Everything had to be carried on our backs from the fields. Even when there were horses Dad would have to use them to earn some money and we carried everything on our backs. When spring came it was even worse. There were piles of cow manure that we had to clean up. When the women couldn’t use the horses, they would have to carry that manure on their backs. How heavy and how much work! The next day we could barely walk. Then

the manure was moved to the yard of our new house, the house where all of you were born, where there was a large pit for it. Then it was carried in and cleaned and then it would rain it would fill up the hole.

Village Life: The Frogs m

Where the frogs came from, I don’t know, but it was as if someone had poured them in to that manure pond. It was nice in spring, normally in the beginning of April. When we were having dinner one frog would call out “krrk” and the others would answer. They even got into a rhythm.

They even supposedly had a song, “A loved one died for you and me. Pray for him, you and me and Maria and Sofia.” At the end the frogs would sing “rada rada rada” and end up with “krrrk.”

How many times I sat outside to listen! And you used to like to listen to them. One time we had a teacher, he was there teaching you. I don’t know where he was from but frog legs were a favorite meat there. So he asked his pupils if they knew where there were any frogs, and Rudy told him that we had a lot of them. That particular day I had to go to town, to Bytča. The frogs were nice and fresh and singing happily in the morning. When I came home it was so quiet in the yard and not even one called out. I even said to our aunt, “What happened to our frogs? They’re so silent.”

And she told me “Oh, if only you knew what was happening here. The teacher came with some boys, they caught all the frogs into a basket. They cut off their legs and the poor things were crying. They took them and the rest they threw into the river.” Now it was lonely in the yard, and from that time on we never heard frogs again.

It was one thing after another. The frogs disappeared, poor things. Then the birds came and they would sing so sweetly. If you could only you could hear how beautifully they would sing in the morning. They said each one knew sixteen songs. A woodman was listening to them early in the morning and he wrote down sixteen notes, each one different. Everything was happy there.

The birds were happy, the people were happy. They worked hard but were very religious. Every holiday and every Sunday, even if there were problems, they were faithful. And they were happy even though they had to work hard. After everything—but I’m hopping everywhere from the fifth to the ninth. If I had a good memory I would put this nicely in order for you, but now what do I know when it’s gone? It went away. Now I’ll tell you about winter. When the days were shorter it was time to kill the pigs. Dad was the butcher for the whole village. There was enough of everything. There was meat, there was jelítka (buckwheat sausage), there was klobása (sausage), there was everything.

Village Life: A Snowy Walk to Magale m

I forgot to tell you that when I was young, fourteen or fifteen, I don’t remember, we had an aunt in Magale [a village near Petrovice]. You might remember it. That year it was a terrible winter, especially January. People had to walk very far to buy things. It was three hours each way. When our aunt left her house in the morning—she lived where it was very heavily wooded—it was a short day. By three o’clock it would be getting dark. She would buy many heavy things and she had to carry everything on her back. She stopped at our house and she wanted to go home. My mother didn’t want her to go because she could get lost in the snow, or even freeze to death. But she just wanted to go home. My mother didn’t want her to go alone, so she sent me with her. It was very, very cold and the snow would crunch under our feet. When we started there was so much snow it probably came up to our necks. It was in the hills and there was a deep rut used as a path. When the rains came they would wash out everything. But when it snowed the winds would blow and everything would be smooth. Our aunt couldn’t remember where the path was, and at one point she thought we on the right track but we ended up I some huge drifts. As we were carrying buckets it was hard to walk in the snow because we had to carry the buckets on astick on our shoulders. It was very hard. Every time we took a step we would sink further almost to our necks. We were thinking that this was probably the end.

Then it came to her, or maybe I told her, we weren’t too far from the houses. There weren’t very many houses, maybe twenty or thirty where the people live in the woods. She put her bucket down and somehow she managed to get to one of the homes. She called some of the other women and they went back to get the buckets. She came back for me because I had stayed in the snow. We didn’t have any proper shoes or boots, just a foot covering called krpce (light slippers).

We didn’t have any warm underwear like leggings. Our legs were swollen, our knees red and scraped over. Our whole hands were frostbitten. When we dug ourselves out of the snow and went through the doorway and into the house where it was warm, I passed out. But they thought I was frozen because I couldn’t feel my hands or my feet. I never forgot about that and that was the last time I went to Magale. I never went there again and I will never forget it.

When World War II came (and we were already in America) there were a lot of Czechoslovak partisans hiding in Magale. Then the Germans came looking for the partisans because they were fighting against the Nazis. Some of the people who were suspected of hiding them were shot, and the other people were chased out by the Germans with only their clothes on their backs, and then the Germans burned all the houses. The people had liked living there, they had beautiful fields, but they were chased in all directions and were lost, I don’t remember where. They

lost everything, poor souls. That’s how life was there for the people, very hard. If I could only tell you everything, but I’m saying it has been a long time ago now, I don’t know. I could still tell you all kinds of things but they seem to have gone away from my mind. Maybe x other time if something comes to my mind I will tell you more.—Koniec (The end)

Note m

I tried to translate Grandma’s story as best as I could. Sometimes it gets a little confusing because Grandma repeats herself or goes off in a different direction. Also, she had a tendency to use the word “they” instead of “he” or “she.” I tried to stay as close to the tape as possible. But the stories are here and I hope you enjoy them! —Aunt Gaby

Slovak pronunciation: Slovak always has the accent on the first syllable of a word. The accent mark instead means that the accented vowel is held longer, thus a = ah and á = aah. Slovak also has special letters pronounced like this: č = ch, š = sh, ň = ny or like the ñ in Spanish, ž = zh.

Translated by Gabriela (Gaby) Pretes (née Slivoňová), 2020

Transcribed and edited by Michael Pretes. Send any corrections or requests for photos to him at pretes@gmail.com